


Lets Stop Running From Love

by angelsin



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, College, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Ryo is a Gay Flustered Mess, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsin/pseuds/angelsin
Summary: Ryo Asuka, a tired university professor prodigy who runsonlyon coffee has a busy life with busy friends. Constantly crowded with T.V. interviews and poparazzi's attention due to his accomplishment at being the youngest person in the world to earn multiple degrees, continue on as a professor, and become a founding figure in the study over human psychology and anthropology.And yes, he agrees, the attention and congratulations are great, butnothingsoothes him more than a fresh cup of coffee after a long day, which is why he always huddles down in a lesser know coffee shop in downtown Tokyo. That, and there’s an utterlyadorableboy working the evening shift every weekday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy, happy early Valentine's Day! Enjoy the chapter, there's more to come :)

Early afternoon struck Ryo sooner than expected, and soon the blonde man was sprinting out the door of his office to his open classroom where he was set to teach for the day, worksheets in hand and hair still a mess from the morning, not caring enough to brush the mess that sat atop his head. A thought strikes him; how immature it was for him, Ryo Asuka, considered the smartest prodigy in the world, to be late to his classes and unprepared. However, he had no responsibility to owe one the time of day, and so, no one was to complain; he may be as unorganized as he liked: he owed no one anything.

And yet he supposed, being self-prepared was apart of being respectful, so he could at least act up to his part of being a prodigy with so many requesting his time. How he earned such honor, he still had no clue; he was simply an unorganized, uncaring man with little to no feeling of responsibility; he was childish, which was fair, he was still a child, only 18, yet so far ahead of his other peers.

Being held to such responsibility was something Ryo disliked due to his nature, and as a man who was only motivated when benefit himself, he seemed to procrastinate and put things off till the last moment, which would describe his predicament entirely. However, what university professor really cared about their classes? None, to say the least. Just as him, they all were tired, unprofessional, and just skating by, as of their students, it was the same. For Ryo, the same was for him; He's just a man bullshitting through life, the only difference being his high intelligence and celebrity status.

As he nears the corner directing him into his classroom, he wonders how many students truly cared about his classes, or how many sat in shock of his presence; he was just another professor, yet the popularity status seemed to intimidate his students, allowing him no room to act as a human. But once again, here they were, Ryo being the most immature professor on the canvas, which he thinks would say wonders on his intimidating status, and yet they all still seemed wary of him. None of that was a matter to him, but he had hoped the new and fresh scarce others had of him would wear off soon.

As he makes entry to his classroom, eyes meeting the room full of tired adolescents, he tries to pat down his hair and make himself presentable; whatever he may say, he still had an inch of care left about maturity and presentation, which was why he always dress nicely and professional, and talked in such a mature voice tone.

The students seemed the same as always, eyes boring holes into his body as he takes his steps inside the classroom to begin his lesson. Just as him, none were truly prepared or able for class, which did wonders on his stress level; he even lowers his shoulder a titch as feet hit wood flooring and he steps aboard his little stage, making his way so he's behind his desk situated just to the left of his whiteboard.

With a deep breath in, he pushes his voice out loud enough to hear even from the very top and begins speaking, all eyes in the room turning to him as he gathers their attention for the next hour. His hands fly into the air, a palm outstretching as if to point to the board, he announces, "Welcome to Psychology 3."

\---

"Mr. Asuka." A voice catches his attention as he shuffles through the stack of papers on his desk, eyeing the names to check over who's he has before grading. His head pushes upwards so he's face to face with a young lady standing a front his desk, hand clasped tightly together before her chest. With her meek voice, she continues, "I'm confused about the assignment. May you go over it once more for me, please?"

"Y-Yeah, of course." He realizes his stutter and pulls himself higher, collecting himself and putting it back in order, he speaks in a more calm and informative tone, "What should I clear?"

"Everything- If it's not a bother!"

He stands up, taking the outstretched paper from her hands and reviewing it with his eyes, scanning the page as he speaks, "Not at all."

He's done in another second. Handing it back over, he turns to face her straight on, eyes meeting hers as he begins his explanation, trying to think of simpler words as he states again, "Basically, it’s asking you to explain both the Cannon-bard theory and the James-Lange theory on emotion, then compare and contrast both and write your final opinion. Just follow the basic paper structure written on the page and you should get everything.  Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiles, pushing her backpack farther up her shoulder before turning away from him. As she leaves, he situates himself back down, eyes navigating their way back to his papers, where he runs a finger through the pages, finaling plucking out the first paper in the stack and setting it down before him, where he pulls out a pen and begins his new task of grading each paper.

Even through the complete  _ boringness  _ of grading papers, he manages to complete it in just over 3 hours, a staggering feat for the foot-high stack of papers he had to conquer. He leans back in his chair, letting his mouth fall slightly agape as a puff of air rushes from his puckered lips. He lets the stress decompose for a moment before he’s up on his feet, stuffing his phone and pen back into his bag that sat aside his desk, and moves quickly across the room towards the door. 

His new task is getting out of the school without getting stopped for help or congratulations; his shift now over and all he wants is go rest at his favorite coffee shop downtown, a small, nifty place with good lattes and tasteful buns. As he strides down to the hall and out into the sunny, breeze-ridden February day, he takes a moment to pull out his phone, thumb navigating to the message button before pressing the recent text section that read ‘Jenny’ and typing out his message.

_ Wish me luck. _

As he pushes his phone back into his bag, he continues his walk, stepping into the busy street and off of campus before pushing his way through the masses to continue his trott downtown. The coffee shop wasn’t far from campus, thankfully. A staggering 5 minutes on foot was all it took on a normal day.

His feet lead him through the streets, diving in and out and between the crowds, navigating between empty spaces, pushing through hoards of people to his destination. His only issue with the coffee shop was its location; while it was a convenient distance away from campus, the location was right in downtown Tokyo, meaning it was overcrowded and busy  _ all the time _ .

And not to be a spoiled brat, but Ryo hated having to deal with people.

However, the coffee was worth it on its own, but what truly made it special was the boy who worked the register every weekday. Ryo had learned his schedule, being at the shop so much did him that. He knows when the boy goes on break, and when he leaves his shift. Meaning, he knew all the right times to arrive so he’d be served by him.

Yeah, he may be sneaky, and he may be extra, but at least he’s getting  _ some _ joy out of life. If a cute boy made him happy, he’s going to be at that coffee shop whenever he can.

Saying that, the boy wasn’t necessarily “cute”. No, he was smoking hot. A boy with a muscular build and beefy upper chest, he looked almost nothing of his age; It was like puberty hit him hard, but in his young adult years after going unchanged throughout high school. His face was the prime example of masculine, a sharp jaw with a fit face shape, thin lips with a large mouth, eyes arched and intimidating. However, it wasn't an overwhelming masculinity, no. The boy still looked pretty, even through his big build and sharp face. He was attractive, not just a bodybuilder with no features. But he was still masculine, to say the least, a heavy contradiction to his soft, kind-hearted personality, the reason why Ryo felt it necessary to call him cute in the first place.

He was the kindest soul he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Always crying for others, never for himself, that's what he heard. He had no doubt believing it, either. He was a kind soul, through and through, which was possibly what drew Ryo to him in the first place. It was a nice contradiction to his cold, selfish personality, and he supposed opposites fit well together. Envy was a key factor to love.

However, he held no envy for this man; It was pure adoration and love that kept bringing him back. Even through his denial, he could feel it in his chest, his heart beating at irregular speeds when near him. It wasn't worth the effort in his brain to deny it; He felt something for this man, if not obvious before.

As he rounds the final corner to his destination, he takes a split second to breathe in deeply, pulling at his tie and patting down his hair. He lets his feet take a step around the corner, finding their place right before the coffee shop door he knew all too well.

The shop was situated on a corner between two busy streets. Down the road followed more shops and boutiques. The coffee shop was a perfect location, set at the end of a busy shopping location, it brought in visitors looking for a rest from there heavy sprees. The multi-colored writing that covered the front window caught the attention of on-goers, and the warm and comfy atmosphere bribed them to stay.

As he opens the door, the familiar ring of a bell greets him. He steps inside, eyes scanning across the room to the beige decor until finally resting on the ordering station set affront him. He continues walking down the set isle he stands on, a few mats placed down to lead customers to the register. From there, it leads into a small area with a few tables and a booth, along with a sofa which was being used by a young lady. The room was set up with a few stands, urging people to buy their blends. One stand, which sat right in the middle of the room catching all attention held different mugs with hearts and a chocolate box set, reminding him of one important detail of today; It was Valentine's Day, and he completely forgot.

Not that he was one for romance, but it was a holiday to be aware of. Usually, he'd be hiding out at home, avoiding all lovey-dovey couples until the holiday blew over. Of course, now that he remembered such an important thing, it finally clicked why everyone was in such a great mood. Love.

It almost sets him in a worse mood than ever.

He pulls himself together as he takes his final steps to the counter. No one sat behind it, questionable, but he only clears his throat and begins waiting. No need to, however, as he catches a glimpse of a boy running from the back, skidding around the corner as he dashes to the front desk, out of breath and hair a mess.

Ryo recognizes him instantly.

"Hello, sir. I'm sorry for the wait. What can I get for you today?"

Ryo chuckles, "No wait at all. Just a croissant, Akira."

"Coming right up!" The dark haired boy cheerful responds, clicking in numbers on the register, he pulls out the receipt, setting it down on the counter in front of Ryo, "Sign here."

Ryo does so, hand easily flying over the paper as he scrapes out his signature, familiar letters a breeze to write. He hands back the receipt to Akira with his charge and leaves, finding his way to the booth which sat in the very back of the room. As he sits himself down, he sets his bag beside him, unzipping it and pulling out his laptop. He sets the laptop on the table in front of him, typing out his password and watching as the screen reloads to the browser he left up, a lesson plan for his anthropology class next week.

He sets to work, fingers flying as he types out words onto the keyboard. It's second nature to him; growing up writing essays and papers taught him that much. He supposes he's deep into his work, which is why it comes as a surprise when he hears the gruff voice of Akira behind him say, "Uh... Sir."

"Yes, yes!" He’s turning around quickly, body moving at immense speed from the stress of not knowing how long Akira had been standing there before he had noticed. Embarrassed as he was, he could only wait for the interaction to be over. However, he's met with even more of a surprise when he finds Akira standing with a smile on his face, a plate with a croissant a _ nd  _ a familiar recyclable cup in hand, one marked with the same red  _ Sharpie  _ in the same spot; His normal vanilla latte. Ryo's unable to speak, embarrassingly, his eyes still locked on Akira's giddy face.  _ He's so useless sometimes. _

"H-Happy Valentines Day, sir." Akira's still smiling as his hands push the items forward, setting them on the table with a clink as the plate rushes against the table, brushing slightly and creating a distraction for the both of them.

Ryo's face instantly turns a few shades redder, a massive blush spreading across his cheeks. His mouth twitches open as he lets out a light stutter before finally letting his mouth spill out the words, "Ryo. My name's Ryo."

"Happy Valentines Day, then, Ryo." Akira buzzes out, smile never fading as he walks away, leaving Ryo a mess before him, levitated fingers shaking above his laptop keyboard. He's still frozen from shock and overload.

He takes on a deep breath in. He lets it out.

He feels himself calming, his blush growing fainter as he slowly pulls himself back together, moving his limbs once more and placing still shaking hands in his lap. He takes a few more breathes, calming himself as he thinks over the situation, trying not to over analyze it, but also in complete shock as he muses,  _ was he flirting with me?! Was that flirting?!  _ He feels so lost in his feelings as he drifts away into self-projection, his mind swarming with one thing in a frenzied panic-inducing stress, one that drives him wild and keeps him up until late in the night, throwing every inch of emotion he developed over the years away and leaving him in the mess he was now:

Akira.

And it drives him mad. He was a slave to his own feelings, ones he doesn't even understand. It's ridiculous, pathetic,  _ but how was he to change it?  _

However, even through all of this, he’s able to concise a clear thought; he knows one thing if anything:  _ He was going to enjoy this coffee like it's his last. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ryo crashes after a long day, he reflects over his strange day and realizes _oh no I have feelings._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! And in the same month, yes! Enjoy this, Ryo indeed, is a gay flustered mess~

His blush is still visible as he moves through the streets, picking up speed as he nears the corner to a street sign and is able to catch his breath. He’s finally able to convince himself he’s far enough away - Akira won’t see him such an evident mess, stumbling through the streets as he levels his head and moves forward, one step at a time.

It’s relieving, that much is to say, but having to down a coffee in two minutes and rush out the door, leaving a wad of cash behind as a tip doesn’t do well for your stress level when  _ you're trying to play it cool. _

But naturally he was a very flustered person - one who’s moral alignments was more on the  _ chaotic _ side of things - so it wasn’t unexpected for him to do such a thing, but god, it still hurt every time.

He pulls himself forward away from the slouching position against the brick wall and to his feet, where he takes one more deep breath, which flows through his chest and filling him with a fluttery energy, before taking one step forward, then following up with another until he’s sprinting, moving his body through the crowds in a fluid motion, like a memorized dance performed after a year of practice; He’s quickly finding his way out the streets, steps on point as he flies his way away from everyone.

It’s in no time that he finds his way to his home, shoulders finally resting as his eyes flicker to the mansion, mind filling with a relaxing buzz as his body fills with the reassurance that he’s  _ home _ and he can _ rest.  _ And as he takes the final steps to the gate to his house, pushing in the ringer, waiting for Jenny to open the gate and let him in, he finds himself looking over his home, examining the white exterior, and the windows that line every hall; The tall poles that hold up the roof for entrance balcony, and the grand door stretching high and wide: Extra at least. What he had of a yard was well groomed with an excess of flowers scattered evenly across the lawn. 

The gold painted gate opens wide, and he realizes Jenny had already answered him while he was in his hallucinogenic state. He strides through, up to the entrance where he pushes open the door with a bang and walks through.

He’s greeted with the familiar sight of the entrance hall, a nicely decorated room with a tall ceiling that opened up to a stairway, both sides leading into different hallways. Marble coated the floor and the walls were painted a light beige, which accented the antique wooden furniture scattered around the room, including the coat post and the massive mirror located between the two stairways. A silk covered sofa sat to the side of him near the entrance, a welcoming decor meant to give more of a homey feeling. 

He slides off his shoes, letting the uncomfortable dress shoes come off and moves into the fluffy slippers that sat neatly in front of the shoe rack, a sign that Jenny had, once again, prepared for his homecoming. 

“Would you like your bathrobe as well,  _ princess _ .”

He scoffs, “Do you need to ask that?”

He’s met face with Jenny as she comes striding through the doorway, bathrobe dangling over her right arm and teacup other. A giddy smile is painted over her lips, taking place with red tainted eyes shone brightly over her upward stretched face. As she moves across the room, her feet slide lightly over the cold floor, and she lightly laughs, her smile turning to a smirk as she asks, “How’d it go with your boy? Did you confess?”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me it’s Valentine’s day, “ He scowls as he takes the robe from her, pulling it around his body and pushing his arms through the armholes until it’s placed around him; then, he takes the teacup from her hand, sipping out of it and smiling marvelously at the taste of green tea, “I didn’t even  _ know _ , then I walked in surprised at the decor, and when Akira gave me something I totally made a  _ fool _ of myself.”

“He  _ gave _ you something?” She muses, eyes falling to his bag where he places a hand over the velcro seal, nodding as he pats it.

“It’s not in the bag, he gave me a coffee - All I ordered was a croissant.”

She nods, but doesn’t say anything; As she walks back down the first hall, he follows behind, eyes wandering to the frames in the hallway placed upon the walls, fit with many pictures of himself, his cat, and Jenny. And as expected, he had many relics and artwork lining the hallway. It added to the fancy demeanor, in which he thought, was just for show, but it worked, because a nice house deserves nice things, and it made him feel nice as well.

Then finally, he begins to whine, “ _ Jeeeenny _ .”

“Yes, Ryo?”

“I can’t take it anymore.” He pops a lip out, pouting as he brings his hand to his eye, rubbing it and sitting down in a stool as they enter the kitchen, placing his elbows on the counter as he dramatically sighs and begins recounting, “He’s just so perfect! How does he do it? How does he _not_ _realize_ he does it? And how is he so cute? Always, always! He’s always so cute! And I can’t handle it, Jenny!”

Suddenly he grows quiet, sliding his hands to his forehead as his body moves down until his head is planted on the white quartz countertop, resting against the cool surface as he mumbles into his arms, “Oh god… What the fuck, Jenny? This is too much… I-I’m not…?”

“Go rest, Ryo.” She pats his back lightly, and he feels her calloused hand slide down the dress suit he has on, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion against his silk clothed skin, “I’ll bring you dinner upstairs.”

“Thanks, Jenny.” His tone of voice isn't harsh; more tired, coming out a more monotone, deep mumble than anything else. As he pushes his slouching body off the stool, his feet slide across the floor; he barely even lifts his feet nor his head, his stature practically zombie-like. The young adult yawns, throwing his head back as he turns the corner where Jenny no longer can see his self.

“What a baby.” She says to herself, laughing slightly into her hand, muffling the sound.

A snort is heard from the other room.

 

\---

 

He opens his eyes to the light-flooded room as he hears the creak of a door and a pleasant smell fills the room, eyes directing to Jenny, who steps through the doorway and parades across the room, in her hand a bowl of a warm broth, complete with bread and a side dish pasta held on a smaller plate next to the soup, sat atop a wooden bed tray. He flinches backward but slowly begins opening his eyes as his brain registers with the bright room. As his mind finally gains sense and dilates back to the room, he's met face to face with Jenny, who is patiently waiting by his side, hands still holding the tray as she cautiously looks down at him, making sure not to tip the plate or spill any of its contents.   
  
She waits for him to finally show signs of comprehension when she first begins speaking, her mouth letting out quiet, soothing sounds, knowing Ryo was still in his sleepy state, and won't be able to pick up on what she is saying until his drowsiness wears off. As he rubs his eyes and stretches out his arms, a yawn pushing its way out his lips, she states calmingly as if you would to a tiny child, or a dying elderly (Which shows signs of her patronizing, but Ryo doesn't mind), "Dinner is done. Tell me when you would like for me to set the tray down."   
  
"Now's fine," he slurs out; his drowsiness seems unable to go away, and his yawning is nonstop, "I won't spill."   
  
"I'll take your word." She carefully places the tray across his lap on his upright body, letting the blankets crumple around the sides and cave in with the extra weight; as she finishes, she slowly but surely says again, lifting her fingers off one at a time until she's sure it's safe and won't spill, leaving it to Ryo to finish, "Call me when your done, I'll be tidying the floor."   
  
She moves out the room, sliding across shiny wood flooring and to the light white painted door. As he watches her go, he finds himself observing the room, eyes wandering to the white silk curtains and dark desk sat across the master bedroom, a new MacBook neatly in front of the black leather swivel chair tucked in front of his desk. To the right of him is another white door, leading into a walk-in closet fit with all his clothes. The room is spacious and clean, but somehow comfortable and homey. His bed, a master fit with white puffy blankets that can cover him entirely, is comfortable and huge, which he admits, adds to his ego but also keeps him comfortable, so it's a win.   
  
He looks back down at his food. With a deep sigh, he picks up his spoon and dips into the soup. As he raises his spoon to his lips, he blows gently, cooling the steaming liquid without pushing it off the metal utensil. As he tilts the spoon, letting the warm broth slide into his mouth.

Mindlessly, he continues eating. Scoop after scoop, sip after sip - He finishes his low dipped bowl of soup and leans his body to the right, hand navigating across his bedside table where he finally reaches his phone, grasping around the object and lifting it to his face, the brightness shocking his system for a mere second before he slides his finger over home, turning on the phone and clicking the green message shortcut and begins texting Jenny.

_ I’m done. Can you bring me my laptop? _

He sets down the phone, arms uprising as he lets out another yawn, being careful not to raise his body and bump the tray off his lap. He’s alone - He liked that, however, it also meant it was time to  _ reflection _ ; he didn’t enjoy that.

And soon, before he knows it, his brain is already ahead of him, thinking of topics he’d rather not talk about; he doesn't even realize it's happening until a few moments later when his conscious finally comprehends, catching up with his rapidly swarming thoughts.

He’s thinking about Akira again.

What is he? A lovestruck teenager… No, best to not compare it to  _ that _ . But he was acting like a mess, flustered and stuttering all the time, heart pounding every time he's near him and brain swarming too fast as if an anxiety attack - but in a good way, like a good misunderstanding or a heartfelt confusion. And he’s so confused… He feels so odd, so strange - What is this he’s feeling?

That question wasn't to be asked, however. He knew what was going on, he just refused to accept it. But he couldn't stop his beating heart or his stomach full of butterflies. It was just so obvious, his inner body knows what's going on; He’s -

_ Buzz. _

He’s interrupted by the sound of his phone going off. He looks over, the screen glowing bright, and he realizes it's from a new text. Grabbing it with a sigh, he takes the phone into his hand and glosses over the lock screen, reading the notification from a text from Jenny.

_ Got it. Anything else? _

His fingers fly over the keyboard, typing out a simple answer before clicking send and waiting for a knock at the door so he can begin working:  _ No, I’m good.  _

It’s almost a minute until the sound of knuckles hitting wood echoes throughout his room, and he briefly calls out, “Come in.” Before pushing himself up so he’s not slouching. Sitting up in a more mature position, he gazes over, watching the door slide open, revealing Jenny.

As she strides in, her feet brush against the floor in an almost model-like way; She’s clearly a confident woman, who holds herself to a high standard and seeks out seeks more refined things in life, which is partly why he hired her. The other half being she’s immensely talented, able to do almost any task he sets her off to with unhuman-like perfection and still doesn't raise a sweat. She’s the definition of an independent, strong woman who don’t take any shit, and he loves her.

And suddenly, she’s besides his bed, hands already picking up the tray as she places the laptop in his hands; he gladly accepts, placing it in his lap when the tray is pulled off his body. And as soon as she came, she was already gone, leaving him alone to finish his work, prepare for a 6 o’clock radio meeting, and leave twenty-to.

His finger brushes over the power button, watching the screen explode with life. The computer buzzes, a login screen shown - he quickly types in his password with familiarity and watches  _ Microsoft Word  _ pop up with what he had been working on, a document with a rough draft of an essay he would turn into college to be read for classes and used as a base for teaching. So there was some pressure, but he was used to it.

And as his fingers already lift up to march across the keyboard, he lets himself float away, writing what came to mind until his timer would later tell him to stop, and the buzzing of his phone would pull him out of his creative daze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo new chapt!! this one was supposed to be shorter, but still 2.3k, holy! this series is so fun to write, i love my dumb gay coffee boys sm
> 
> but yea, hope you enjoyed and im still in devilman hell


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryo and Akira have a nice coffee ~~date~~ break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that took awhile to update! i ran into some trouble writing this but i'm happy to get back into it!! enjoy~

Mind and body, he aches and he sighs, tiredness flooding his empty shell as he focuses in on his stressor, a paper to be read and discussed at a press meeting over Government forms of healthcare, allowing him no relief from this melancholy he has formed himself due to immense work and stress he's partially put on himself, partially forced upon him due to responsibilities. Yet, for the past few days, he's set himself into this troublesome state, a panic-induced affect of his immense work and stress due to tremendous loads of expectation.

And yes, this meant he would neglect all forms of enjoyment and only allow himself to focus on the work that had to be done. And yes, this even meant forcing himself to ignore his favorite person, sadly enough.

However, he barely realized his neglect of himself or self-care, mind too wrapped up in the quickened stress of getting his work done to think anything but it. Days would mash together and time would become indifferent. Instead of daily work, it become one long night of panic until his clock would ring for another lesson, another rushed time until he would pick himself up and go home to the darkened workroom, face pressed against brighten computer screen and bloodshot eyes falling across every word his fingers type out until it once again hits morning and he's forced to go back to the cold floored, uncomfortable university and rush through the day once more.

Unhealthy, yes, but he's able to work and get things done, which is a top priority on his list. He wasn't an organized worker — no, far from it, but he had his ways and he stuck to it — even if it wants great in the end. And he supposed it was due to his young age and his immature nature that he procrastinated and crammed his brain with knowledge late into the night just to crash when day sprung, but in the long run he would never change and he would never have a more mature way of dealing with such, so he would continue on his route of self-destruction and irresponsibility.

As he comes crumbling through the doors of his home, he once more meets the harsh warmth of inside the walls and pushes himself forward with glee, enveloping himself in the comfort after being out in the wind struck spring afternoon. His body moves through the doorframe and onto the hard flooring, smooth against his touch. His hands graze across the walls as he enters, sliding his shoes off and on a pair of fuzzy slippers—just as always.

He falls upon his own demise, pushing himself to his ends and breaking his wits all of his own wills; his own actions and his own choice have brought this upon himself, yet he so stupidly continues destroying himself and continuing down the path of failure and self-destruction; and yet he continues and he continues and he continues, no sense of sense in his actions, and hopeless oblivion arising due to his mindset; he was dumb, he was idiotic and he would continue his toute of bad choices and bring himself to more and more mental breaks and failure.

Yes, he made bad decisions. This was known, no need more to comment; however, the most shocking part of it all may seem to be his avoidance of the one thing that brought him pleasure. Yes, at this point he was ignoring his only coping mechanisms and relying on the anxiety that pushed him further to work; he had not visited Akira in a mere week.

You heard that right, the head over heels college professor had not seen him boy crush in a week, and he was promptly dying due to it.

So of course, when it finally connects in his brain and he takes a second to rack up his thoughts and realize his forgetfulness, he picks up his lim and tired body to drags his way back to the boy to see him as soon as possible, which seems to be an impulsive decision, he realizes as he looks up at the glass door and reaches his hand out, caressing the door handle and gripping it tight before he flings it open with much pressure and lets the door rampage the wind outside and nearly hit the wall sat beside the windows of the shops entrance only avoiding it due to the door stopper set between the wall and door.

And as he sashays in, a gleeful smile placed upon his lips as he moves through the room, a now confidence welling in his chest of a man who knows his fate deemed to self-destruction and turning it to a false happiness of a big ego and the smile of a man who has given up. His self-altering disease of depression seems to push him forth until he’s met at the counter, the same black haired boy his head had been rushed with moments before now sat present a mere two feet in front of him and it sudden comes dawning upon him, his complete ignorance washed away as he now faces his fear of loneliness and rejection and promptly gains a new persona, one now named a flustered, shy man with many problems and nothing to push upon his problems and really change himself.

Now face to face with his real stressor, he leans back so he has more space between them to hopefully hide the bags under his eyes and the messy blonde hair plopped on his head, placed just to fit a bad mullet _way_ out of style that he really needed to cut, due to the overgrowing roots and badly fitted trench coat he wore to cover his wardrobe of extremely needed updated fashion. He meets blue eyes with brown and presses a smile against thin lips, greeting the man with a charming but endearing, "How nice it is to see you once more!"

"Yes, well, you stopped by; a latte, I'm guessing." That he was true in speaking for both statements, he was acting way too shocked for the appearance of himself within Akira's working hours and marvels at his stupidity for assuming it was shocking to meet him at _Akira's_ job spot; As well, he just enjoyed lattes.

"Yes—yes," Ryo speaks now, glancing up at the board situated above Akira's head to avoid eye contact (The only thing keeping him from becoming a human mess of a flustered crushing schoolgirl, may he add) as he speaks again, "Buy yourself a coffee while you at it and join me for a brief chat; whatever you like, on me."

"Sir-"

"Ryo," Ryo adds before he can continue.

"Yes... Ryo," Akira shows a giddy smile on his face, one like a child or a puppy rather than a developing 19-year-old, "Thank you; it's almost break anyways."

"Great, then we can talk for a while," Ryo exclaims, "But I won't take up your entire break."

They both fall to silence as Akira moves his attention to the register, typing in their orders then swiping Ryo's credit card before handing it back and moving his body backward, eyes locating the kitchen behind him and shouting, "Miki, Miko—I'll be taking a break early!"

He's met with two distant remarks of, 'Okay!' but no other signs of activity behind the kitchen. However, some clattering can be heard to which he assumes is those working behind the scene to keep things in order. And as Akira takes off behind, Ryo finds himself a sat at a two-seat table near the window, gazing back at the kitchen once more and the empty room, even avoidant of humans, he falls to amazement at how desolated the room looked in between hours, catching sight of the strange nothingness of humans and the now cryptic chairs pushed neatly to tables, only now wondering at how alone he felt in an abandoned coffee shop, a sight one should never be witnessed to due to the complete strangeness in feeling of it.

However, he's snapped out of his daze as a hand presses on his table, setting two drinks down with it as a body moves onto the chair straight across from him, his eyes navigating up Akira’s body before he meets the face of Akira, lips still pressed in a pout as he looks at him with curiosity sparkling in ocean blue eyes until they fall once more to Akira's hand, which is now pushing a cup forwards towards him, letting the words fall out of his mouth, "Mine?"

Akira merely hums, a quiet 'Mm-Hm' that dies down when he silences himself with a coffee pressing against his lips as he takes a long sip, drowning his words in the milky drink and forcing it back down onto the table with a slight ‘ _ bang’ _ .

A satisfied grin spreads across his face, licking his lips to smother the white remains of the fluffy drink, “You choose good coffee, Ryo. It’s good.”

“You got what I got?” Ryo raises his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah,” Akira nods, “Decided to switch it up a bit, but I’m sticking with plain black. Too much sugar for my liking.”

“Hey,” Ryo smirks, “I like mine froofy.”

“I know that!” He laughs, “You get that same thing everytime you come. Speaking of that,” He eyes Ryo, his face flashing over a shade of question as he looks him up the eyes, “I thought I had scared you away, you didn’t show up for like a week!”

Ryo chuckles, his eyes glancing downwards as he tries to cover his nervousness, the thought that he  _ had _ been ignoring him because he was too nervous to talk popping up in his head as he stumbles through his mind for a suitable answer, “Haha, nope, just got busy~!”

And yes, he thinks, it was his utter incompetence that lead him to the flustered and shy decision of letting those words fly out his mouth before he could stop them, and the fact that the complete lie he had just told was covered with an obviously fake smile that his mind was trying to brush off as the truth—he was idiotic at best, just trying to get past life, and  _ this _ was one of his worst moments, he thinks as he gazes upon the defeat he carved for himself and waits for the response on Akira’s part.

However, no snarky remark comes as he simply smiles and nods, not mean enough to speak the obvious manner that had just happened and instead bringing his kindness forth where he would now proceed with kindness and make more conversation on the behalf of Ryo, navigating them both out of the awkwardness that was to arrive if they had not deemed the conversation as less than anything good and revived it before it could descend into the trickery of Ryo’s heart and the pain that would surpass if he would have had to be forced into the oncoming load of emotions from the forced talk of his open heart and the explanation for his rapid breathing and flushed cheeks.

But before he knows it he’s already wrapped up in another conversation, this time a lighter topic of their own pets, to which Ryo gladly spills all the details on ‘Her Majesty Princess Glitter Fluff’ (which he shortens to Princess Fluff) and her expensive life as the only daughter of Professor Asuka, to which he’s happy he’s able to crack a laugh out of Akira from his pointless banter over his beloved cat, who is like his daughter.

They both laugh through the time until they would both be forced back to work and back to their busy lives, where they would treasure the little time they had to goof off before they were both stressing over their own lives again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed~ this was sort of self-indulgent but i like making ryo suffer

**Author's Note:**

> This has turned into 'What happens when you stick the gayest mess of a person into the world and give them a cute guy to pine over?' and I don't regret it.
> 
> Anyways, I'm happy I'm writing a serious Devilman fic?? This fandom needed a coffee shop AU and I'm here to give it.


End file.
